


Scars

by rnr4ev



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 03:27:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4548552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rnr4ev/pseuds/rnr4ev
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are good days and bad days and there are days in between.</p><p>And not all bad days are the same.</p><p>And not all good days are either.</p><p>It’s not exactly easy, but it’s not exactly hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars

There are good days and bad days and there are days in between.

And not all bad days are the same.

And not all good days are either.

It’s not exactly easy, but it’s not exactly hard.

The difference between the Margot that Alana first met and the Margot that Alana is currently holding in her arms is slight but noticeable all the same.

Her eyes are brighter, no longer haunted. Her laughter is crisper and sweeter and while Margot has always had _that_ particular smile that she saves just for Alana, Margot has begun to smile more freely and openly.

And the subtle changes in Margot’s demeanor are the best thing Alana has ever seen.

But at the end of it all, Mason was still Margot’s brother and she’s got the scars to prove it.

And so there are bad days.

Days where Margot has to leave the mansion because she can’t stand to face the ghosts that haunt it. Days where Alana has to hold Margot as she cries, “I still loved him. How messed up is that? I still wanted him to like me and be my brother.”

And on particular bad days? The ones where Margot curls in on herself, hands clasped over her lower abdomen? Alana takes Margot’s hands, places them over her own stomach, even though she’s not far enough along for there to be any noticeable changes and whispers, “I love you and **_your_ ** baby loves you and this is **_ours_**.”

But there are never bad nights, not anymore.

Because now Alana can hold and be held by Margot. And she can trace her tongue across the outlines of old wounds until Margot forgets everything in a white hot passion, or she can leave gentle butterfly kisses across the scars on her back or she can trace them with the tips of her fingers. She almost makes a game out of it. Kissing as many scars as she can find.

Margot shifts and turns out of Alana’s arms and looks at her with an apologetic smile,

“Sorry, but darling you’re too hot, and my hair’s tickling the back of my neck” she explains while pulling her long curls out and up, away from her neck.

“No worries, I’m pretty sure my arm was about to fall asleep.” Alana responds, with a smile of her own.

Margot gives her a searching look for a long moment, before sitting up and pulling the bedcovers off of them. Alana props herself up on one elbow watching as Margot brings her right foot up and over her knee.

“Do you see this scar?” She asks, pointing to a very thin and innocuous small white line just above her pinkie toe. “I got this when I was 8, took one of our old and retired racing horses out without supervision. He was this massive horse and my little 8 year old brain had decided that this particular horse and not the more appropriately sized ponies was my friend and that I could ride him. So I did, for a solid 5 minutes, until of course the horse bolted and I fell out of the saddle. I was mostly left unscathed but the buckle on the saddle, of all things, sliced my toe pretty good and it may be stupid but this? This has always been my favorite because it’s mine.”

 Not his, she doesn’t say out loud but Alana can hear it on the tip of her tongue anyway.

Alana resists the urge to psychoanalyze her statement, an urge that has become increasingly easy to suppress in Margot’s presence. “Well at least your passion for horseback riding wasn’t diminished.”

“It was, for a while.” Margot replies softly, and Alana doesn’t much care for the way the cold hard look in her eyes has returned so instead she intertwines their hands.

“Do you see this cut on my thumb?” Alana asks and Margot squeezes her hand in response, “I got it from opening a damn can of dog food for Will’s legion of dogs.”

Margot snorts, and then starts laughing.

It starts out small and then grows and grows until soon her whole body is shaking and Alana joins her because this? This learning and growing together and making it through the bad days?

Is worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed, I'm attempting to help rectify the fact that there are so few fics about my fave girls so come shoot me a prompt/fic idea @rnr4ev on tumblr and I'll see what I can do.


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